


The Ballad of Wolves that Create and Destroy

by pygmypuffskein



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, First War with Voldemort, Flashbacks, Kinda, M/M, Manipulation, Marauders' Era, Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Multi, Pack Dynamics, Unhealthy Relationships, Werewolf Hunters, a little at least, a little james/sirius/lily in the background tho, a lot of talk about mythology, but he is nice-ish to remus?, fenrir is still awful, fenrir's pack, hope is sick/dead, i have thoughts, lyall is troubled, remus had a big crush, remus/sirius isn't gonna happen, this is a lot of sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-13 02:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16008017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pygmypuffskein/pseuds/pygmypuffskein
Summary: With war comes sacrifice. Remus, with a feeling of debt to Dumbledore, takes his request to find the most powerful known werewolf in Europe. The man who turned him, who fills his nightmares-- Fenrir Greyback. Blood runs through the pack like a river, blood of muggles and muggleborns along with anyone the Dark Lord orders. It's disgusting, it's wrong... But is what the wolves are trying to achieve so bad? They want their freedom, for the hunting and persecution to stop. Remus wants that, too. And the more he hears, the more uncertain he becomes. Fenrir speaks of a day when a great wolf will tear the world apart. And he speaks of one that will rebuild what is left.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> My number one rarepair is Remus/Fenrir, not gonna lie. So this is a self-serving fic. Also I kinda dig good characters being corrupted so... enjoy! This is my first time writing Fenrir, and he's a small bit tame around Remus... for now. I have a lot of thoughts on him.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @thestarthefirethelivethewire

Remus had never gotten over the notion of _debt_ he owed after his Hogwarts days. His father had thought of keeping him home after he was turned, and school had been a distant dream as he trailed behind his father. A man that loved him—he knew that— but that also… feared him. The private visit from Albus Dumbledore had been a surprise. Lyall had come home with Remus at his heels after a day of removing dementors from a muggle forest and there was Hope, being _served_ tea in her own home. Remus was still sure his mother had wanted to serve the headmaster, but she was weak as sickness had started creeping in near Remus’ fourth year of life, not long before he was afflicted with his own kind of sickness.

“I heard that you were planning on homeschooling the child, though he was registered from birth to attend my school… I was simply wondering if there was any reason that I might be concerned of.” It was reasonable. Dumbledore might have worried about some rumor circulating or the reputation of one of his teachers, but Remus had known then that wasn’t why he was there. There was wisdom in his eyes. _Knowing_. And looking back, his father must have known it, too, to reveal the greatest family secret to the Headmaster. Or maybe it was blind hope, grasping for some kind of **help**. There had been so much Remus hadn’t known then.

Sometimes he felt he was still discovering small details that may have been better left uncovered in the past.

Hogwarts gave him something new. Friends. And a sense of security where he could sleep in his bed without worry. Gryffindor Tower was so high that no man could possibly slip through the long windows. Not like his room, on the ground with bars on the outside after his mother had found him sleeping in the tub because the bathroom didn’t have windows. No shadows of branches that looked like _claws_ tapping at the glass. Still he had gone to the coat closet when he so much as heard a tap outside… And with his hearing enhanced after the bite… But at Hogwarts, that didn’t matter. He heard the breathing of friends. And on nights where he had nightmares, woke up in a fit, his friends were there. At eleven, they found their bodies could all fit on one bed, limbs strewn and an immense heat that made them sweat… But it was comfortable. Even when it wasn’t they still did it. Fifth year changed things… It did.

It was still more than he ever expected for himself, though. And he had Dumbledore to thank for that. When he felt the need to leave home for good after school, Dumbledore had helped provide for him in part in small ways. Setting up jobs for him. Remus was an unregistered werewolf—something he hadn’t been _aware_ of until later life when he began questioning his father. _Why can’t I tell anyone?_ But even without that piece of information, after a couple of months, wizards and witches would begin to suspect. He had learned that the first couple of rounds, before the war got into it’s thick. Then he got an owl from Madame Rosmerta. She needed someone to help tend the bar, clean the rooms. That had been Dumbledore, too, and he knew it the first time the man showed up on his shift. He was nearly nineteen, had hardly kept up with James and Peter—certainly not Sirius—given his unstable living situation and lack of an owl. But Dumbledore was holding a private party in the room above the pub. The Potters were coming, and Sirius, and Peter. He could see his friends.

His schooling, his friends, his job. All because of Dumbledore. And so Remus felt his debt being called upon when the party became a _meeting_ instead.

An unwavering loyalty to Dumbledore had him nodding to every word, and after everyone had gone on—his friends making Remus _promise_ that he would come round more now that he was stable—his old Headmaster took him aside.

 “I have something I am afraid I must request of you, my young friend. But of course, you have every right to turn me down if it would be too much.”

“What do you need?”

**Unwavering**. Even though he’d gone white as a sheet when Dumbledore explained what he wanted. Even though his worst nightmare was looming ahead.

Remus had been in the forest for nearing a week, somewhere between Poland and Belarus, following scent and _hoping_ to get to the pack he was tracking before the full moon which was approaching. He felt the itch of it every passing day, making him agitated. He wasn’t a tracker by any means, had used the enhanced sense of smell to lead him perhaps once before when Mabel, his mother’s cat, had run off and hadn’t run back. He had been fourteen and found the poor creature mangled.

He was still convinced that it had been one of Fenrir’s pack. He was always convinced when something went wrong it was Fenrir, he had something to do with it. But if he ever mentioned it to his father…

His thoughts cut off when he heard the snap of a twig. A hand tightened around the strap of his backpack, the other holding his wand near his thigh. Nose twitched. The scent was strong, in a straight-line North… Remus paused. Had it been that strong the day before? So overwhelming before he set up to sleep? A low growl came from the thick green, and out of reaction, Remus snarled back.

It was the wrong choice.

He hardly had time to turn, a force like a boulder hitting him so he fell forward into dirt and wild grass. His wand arm was pinned, and he could see the talon like nails as they dug into his wrist, a threat should he try to struggle.

“I always know the smell of a Lupin.” His voice was as he remembered it, low and raspy, as it had been when he said _I have a surprise for your father, boy_ that night in his room _stay quiet and I’ll tell you a story_ _._ Remus had been young, a boy with vibrant dreams, he’d thought the monster of a man couldn’t be real. It was a bad dream and he’d pulled his blanket up to hide his face. He’d been right to fear. “Little Remus finally decides to pay a visit. And the first thing you do is threaten me, aye, lovely? Not very nice.”

The smell of fear had to be rolling off of him in sheets. He’d gone stiff as a board, didn’t know what to say. Afraid of _angering_ the wolf because Fenrir was hardly a man. He’d given away most of the humanity he had ever possessed, shed it like an unwanted skin. It showed in an appearance that Remus didn’t even want to see. One that had haunted nightmares and made him wet the bed for an embarrassingly long number of years—but thankfully when time came for school, the problem had been resolved.

“I’m talking to _you,_ boy. Only us. You let me lead you like a dog on a bloody leash—must really like my scent if you didn’t figure it out. Aren’t you supposed to be _bright_ with all of that fucking schooling?”

“I’ve never had to do this before,” Remus snapped at the even small mocking of his intelligence even though his heart was thudding loudly, fear rushing through him, through his veins. He had taken advanced courses, ones he _struggled_ through. James and Sirius, they grasped things with ease. They didn’t take the things they didn’t need, like arithmancy or ancient runes, but they had an instant _understanding_ that didn’t require they pour over books and keep perfected notes. Remus… he had struggled in a hope to prove he was more than the bite on his side made him. What _Fenrir_ had made him. He wouldn’t let the wolf take that from him.

“No, I guess not.” There was almost pity in his voice, or some mockery of it. Fenrir reached and took his wand. When Remus struggled to retrieve it, still on his stomach, the older released his wrist and put a firm hand on the back of his neck. His fingers squeezed, and Remus couldn’t get a properly deep breath. “I wasn’t there to teach you and your father is no fucking help, is he?”

“My father did all he could—”

“Aye, he didn’t roll over like a coward,” Fenrir snorted. The weight lifted from Remus’ back, then his neck as the older got up. Remus moved quickly, wanting to get on even ground with the wolf he feared. There was a tightness in his stomach, looking at Fenrir. He looked _older_ —of course he did. How old had he been when he’d crawled in through Remus’ window? The scarring is thicker now, making ragged lines through the untrimmed facial hair—more like a layer of fur at his chin and cheeks. But overall there is no mistaking Fenrir Greyback, grinning with sharp yellowed teeth. “So how about you tell me just _why_ you came to visit.”


	2. Chapter Two

The air between the two seemed thick. And Remus, who usually tried to ignore the feeling of the wolf, could feel it in his chest. Unease. Desire to fight. Desire to _submit_. Remus had a pack he ran—maybe not as a human, but as a **wolf**. The wolf recognized itself as an alpha. But the wolf recognized the threat, too. Or maybe it wasn’t the threat.

He remembered finding a book on werewolves once. Remus had found it in a chest at the end of his parent’s bed, and it had confused him. His father _despised_ werewolves—though Remus knew he was left out of that, or thought so at the least—so why the book? He had sat on the floor, seven at the time, and tried to make out the more difficult words. _Sire_ was one he remembered, and when his father came through the door, Remus had asked. _What does it mean?_ But his father took the book and put it back, locked the chest, and gave Remus a serious look.

“Don’t look into all of that, RJ. It doesn’t mean anything.”

It did, though. And Remus knew it _had_ to. He went back to the chest now and then—always locked. But when he went to Hogwarts, nothing stopped him from studying his affliction. He read through every book Madam Pince had in her library, scouring for anything that would explain his transformation, the unknown emotions that sometimes wrapped him, the loneliness.

Packs were a necessity to the wolf’s temperament, he learned. The wolf wanted to hunt, it wanted to play, and he had none of that—at least not at first. The wolf also longed for structure, one that didn’t come for him. _Sires_ , the book said, _introduce the new wolf into the community and teach them how to hunt_. It went on to say how the sire should be killed **first** , to scatter the pack. All of the books had information that led to that, how to kill the werewolf.

It made Remus all the more determined _not_ to fall to his instinct.

But right now, that’s what **itched**. Instinct that told him to run, to kneel, to roll over. His stomach was turning. Why was it he was here again—whose awful idea _was_ this? Dumbledore… Dumbledore, who wanted to see the werewolves step back, who only had Remus as a way to _try_ to speak with them. But he couldn’t say that.

“I’m tired of trying out there,” Remus said, trying to keep his voice steady but it was quivering, “They always figure it out. A couple of months, I only ask off a few days around the moon, and…”

“And so much for the damn registration, aye?” Fenrir snorted. He still had Remus’ wand and that only made the unease he felt worse. His wolf was whining. It was the first time he’d been in contact with his sire, with Fenrir, since he was a child. The wolf had matured, and while it shared the bitter feeling that Remus did, it was no where near as strong. The wolf was **happy** to exist. And this was the being that bore it to Remus when teeth like blunt daggers grabbed at him. A gift. _A surprise_.

“I’ve heard about packs—”

“From _who_?” Fenrir asked and his eyes narrowed slightly, “Who told you about packs? Who’ve you been chatting it up with, Remus?”

He didn’t like the gravelly way his name sounded on the other’s lips, a growl that made his skin crawl. “No one, I read about them.”

“And did you read that I was in Belarus, too, boy?”

It wasn’t a question he was expecting, and he was sure his hesitation wasn’t missed, but he tried to recover quickly from it.

“There were rumors. Rumors tend to follow you, don’t they?”

As a man, he almost seemed civil despite his ratty appearance. But maybe that was because it was Remus he was talking to. _Do you know what that name of yours means?_ Even though Fenrir had been the monster of all Remus’ nightmares, that first interaction hadn’t been all scary. Mostly, Remus tried not to remember it. Because he did remember. That may have been the _first_ day he could remember in full detail, or maybe he just imagined that. Maybe what he remembered was some kind of cushion to lighten the blow of what had happened.

But Remus remembered Fenrir in his room, at the edge of his bed after he was convinced not to call for help. It was a surprise for his father, that was all, and he was going to get stories until the perfect time came for that surprise. _Do you know about the foundation of the great civilization?_ A wolf. A she-wolf had started the world in Fenrir’s eyes, and maybe she had. Romulus and Remus, founders of a new world. And Remus was named after the son of a wolf. But there was another story, too. _Do you want to know how the world will end?_

“I heard that a whole village was slaughtered. Bodies mangled, like some wild animal tore through.” Some partially eaten. It hadn’t been a full moon report, either, a week after. The week of the moon, the pack had been in Poland. Three bodies found on the edge of the forest—that hadn’t been so widely reported, though. The man before him wasn’t civil. He wasn’t kind. And whatever persona he had on now was an act Remus had seen once before as he was lulled into a false sense of security. As he was readied to take the bite. “You made it easy.”

The corner of Fenrir’s lip quirks up, and the look in his eyes is predatory. Remus remembers what he said earlier. _You let me lead you_ … But that wasn’t anything he could have known, right? Maybe he just thought it was lucky for him, Remus had heard and been drawn in to his green maze.

“Not many try to hunt us anymore,” Fenrir said, “You could say some of us get lazy trying to find a good meal.” The bodies hadn’t just been for some disgusting spectacle, then. Remus’ face pulled to a wince at the thought. If he had anything in his stomach, it might have released, been forced out as he remembered the vivid detail, the memory Dumbledore had recovered. He had said that Remus didn’t need to look, but Remus was about to try to integrate with the pack… He ought to know what he was stepping into.

“Animals. It wasn’t even the full moon—”

“We’ve already made them scarce enough here. Might as well work on the unwanted population, useless muggles.” Fenrir sneered then. Remus thought of his mum, and his jaw tightened a fraction. He wouldn’t put her life the same as some animal’s. She hadn’t been useless. But right now, he didn’t need to start fights. He needed to gain a step forward, get to the pack.

“The ministry will figure you out. If you aren’t careful.”

“Why we’ll be _leaving_ , isn’t it, lovely. Never stay this long in one place—as you see, easier to be _found_ , but a bit of a complication has us staying.” Fenrir’s head cocked to the side. “You say you got tired of it, living like you’re one of them. Suppose that means you’ve finally decided to come _home_.”

Remus’ mouth felt dry. Home. He was ‘coming home.’ What was that even supposed to mean?

“What kept you so long?” he questioned, but only got the sound of the other clicking his tongue.

“Not how this works. You answer my questions, and I’ll tell you what I like.” Fenrir had the upper hand and he walked slowly, beginning to circle. Remus turned with him, not wanting to take his eyes off the other. Not for a second. “You’re a _guest_ here, boy. I’d keep that in mind. Now you said you’re tired living like them.”

“Yes,” Remus said, through clenched teeth, “I have. I feel like a spectacle and _this_ isn’t making me feel much different about you.”

“Not registered, are you?” Fenrir asked. Remus gave a quick shake of his head. “Still a spectacle?”

“They figure it out. And it’s not them, when people who don’t know me get suspicious, they send me away.”

“Spectacle to _who_ then.”

Remus pursed his lips. He wasn’t one to talk about these sorts of things. He didn’t _like_ it, but this wasn’t a choice. And did it matter anymore? Out here there was only **one** secret and that was his reason for being here. The rest didn’t matter—though he would keep certain names to himself.

“My friends,” he said simply, “They mean well. They’ve always meant well.” They didn’t _mean_ to make him feel like they did, joking about the ‘furry problem’ that made him lose the relationship with his father, that had made him struggle to obtain high marks in advanced classes that would get him _nowhere_. “For a while, I ignored it—”

“When did you **stop** ignoring it, Remus?” Fenrir has stopped, eyes narrowed slightly, and he taps Remus’ wand against his trunk of a thigh. He’s still a few paces from Remus, allowing the space, and the younger _knows_ it’s a purposeful move on his part. It’s an allowance. One of those things to put him at ease before the inevitable strike. “It wasn’t anytime recent.”

Fenrir said it like he _knew_ it. Maybe he did.

“When I was in Hogwarts.” Simple enough. _They didn’t mean it, Sirius didn’t mean it_. Remus held onto that. He knew James and Peter had nothing to do with it. Sirius was just being… himself. Thinking he was clever, that it was a prank (or Remus told himself that, he never _asked_ ). He’d gotten an apology. Sort of. He wasn’t quite sure Sirius _knew_ how to apologize.

And Remus would make a thousand excuses for Sirius. What boy wouldn’t for his first love…?

“What happened?”

“Why does it _matter_?” Remus snapped, glaring now. Fenrir smirked and lazily pointed the wand at him.

“Because I asked.” The wolf was playing some kind of game. And Remus didn’t want to participate. “But I need to be going back. Time is precious, and I need to make sure no one goes hunting when they shouldn’t.” Fenrir’s eyes ran over him, appraising, and then he turned, walking back to the brush. Remus made to follow, but quickly stopped at the growl that came from the other. His shoulders hunched before he even noticed his movement. The wolf inside bowed its head. The last thing he needed was to anger Fenrir.

“I thought—”

“You stay _here,_ boy,” Fenrir told him firmly, “Here. And if you’re here tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

“My wand, then,” Remus said, and went to take a step closer. He stopped, though, when eyes more beast than man looked to him.

“I said you stay here. You don’t need a stupid _stick_ to survive a night, do you?” Fenrir sneered, but he tossed it over towards the edge of the clearing. “It’s what I get for leaving you with a weak wizard and a fucking _muggle_.”

Remus wanted to retort, wanted to say that he would rather have died than be raised by wolves, but he kept his mouth shut and backed away. “Why can’t I come?”

“You think I’ll just let you walk right into _my_ home? So proud, just like all of those wizards. But that’s not how this works, boy. Lucky I didn’t send someone else to find you.” Fenrir shook his head, eyes settled on Remus a moment more before he grunted. “Don’t go digging in deeper, if you know what’s good for you. You’ll be safe if you stay here. And if you do decide to leave, well… I wouldn’t try coming back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm probably going to get some people thinking Fenrir is being soft and I'll just say this-- the most powerful and most ruthless leaders aren't always going to be shit to people. 
> 
> Especially if they want something from them.


End file.
